


The Little Things

by Listentothelittlebird



Series: Code Bat [20]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Teen Titans (Comics)
Genre: Batfamily (DCU), Batfamily (DCU) Feels, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Damian is an introvert, Duke finally plays rooftop tag, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sickfic, Tim helps him introvert, just a bit of DickBabs, mostly comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:09:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28151403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Listentothelittlebird/pseuds/Listentothelittlebird
Summary: Oneshots of the bat-siblings, and the little-big things that they keep close to heart.(Or, an excuse to write person-centric oneshots, one per batkid)
Relationships: Barbara Gordon/Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Duke Thomas & his siblings, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Stephanie Brown & Cassandra Cain, Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Damian Wayne
Series: Code Bat [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1964452
Comments: 178
Kudos: 691





	1. Dick and his family

**Author's Note:**

> Unfortunately, none of these are Bruce-centric, but hey, Batdad still makes his appearances!
> 
> I went on a writing spree, and honestly, I wrote all of these to cover up the one chapter which was just me projecting XD enjoy!

Dick had hoped the mission would be over, by now.

He had hoped, but he really should have known better. He really should have thought ahead. 

There was a part of him that wondered why this day was still so significant to him. Why it mattered so much that he was not here, not fighting, but at home. Years have passed - he should be over them, by now. 

“Nightwing?” Raven started, hesitant but still concerned. Dick paused, wrestled his thoughts away, pushed down his emotions to somewhere he could deal with later, and smiled convincingly.

“I’m alright,” Nightwing assured. If anything, Raven looked marginally more concerned, but she left him be after that.

The mission was not over. There was no time to think, right now.

“I don’t remember ever seeing you on this date, in previous years,” Cyborg mused, when there was a lull in their planning. His gaze drifted, as if looking through a datalog of the years that had passed. Nightwing’s brain stuttered. “Sorry that the mission’s been extended. You’re not missing out on anything back home, are you?”

Cyborg thought he was missing a birthday, if his apologetic smile was anything to go by. Little did he know that the date was the opposite of a celebration of life.

“No, it’s fine,” Nightwing smiled, feeling it crack at the edges, and quickly pointed out something else to be discussed in their planning.

The mission was a success.

During the mission, one of them fell. Of all the people to fall, Roy - with an empty quiver, a broken bow, and nothing to keep him from going splat on the ground, with broken bones protruding and angled in all the wrong directions-

Kori caught him in time. 

It should not affect him, not when such things had happened before, but he always felt like an eight-year-old again, whenever this day rolled around. It was almost like he expected a replay, all over again.

The day passed.

Dick was planning to return to his apartment in Blüdhaven. The day had passed, already. His time for mourning was gone. It was a new day. Time to move on and brush off his thoughts about them for another year.

His body led him to the Manor.

It was not Alfred who answered the door, but Bruce. Bruce, who had a knowing look in his eyes, a somber tilt to his lips. Who silently spread his arms in invitation.

The hug was hesitant, at first. Hesitant, then Dick was squeezing tightly against him, burying his face in Bruce’s shoulder. The suppressed emotions, the suppressed thoughts and incoherent phrases were bubbling underneath the surface, right there if he let them loose, but not yet. Not yet.

“Come on, chum,” Bruce rumbled, and Dick almost sobbed right then and there, “Let’s go sit down. Come on.”

Bruce waited for Dick to peel his arms off from around him, and then placed one of Dick’s arms around his own, intertwined and pressed firmly into the contact. He led them both towards the living room.

Dick stumbled through the threshold, and stopped, blinking at the sight.

All his siblings were arranged around the room. Jason was reading a book aloud, and Tim was curled up in an armchair, with Duke leaning cautiously against its side. Cass had perched herself on the armrest of the couch Jason was on, and Damian was on the other end, with a spot left for- for someone.

Bruce lightly nudged Dick towards the couch. He slotted himself between Jason and Damian. Damian shifted, slowly, subtly, until he was practically on Dick’s lap. 

Duke was fidgeting, obviously sensing the shaky atmosphere of the room, but he met Dick’s eye and held his ground. A silent attempt at comfort, to be there, and Dick understood that, just as he understood the soft hand of his sister on his shoulder. 

Cass pecked the side of his head with a small smile, before retreating back to her perch, crawling over an otherwise unbothered Jason, who continued to read aloud despite the minor disturbances around him.

Bruce was able to sit at the end, now, and he rested Dick’s head on his shoulder. Carded calloused fingers through his hair.

The room was in a peaceful lull, and Dick found himself listening to the dramatic rise and fall of Jason’s low tones. It reminded him of a small circus carriage, beaming faces that sat by him, just like this. Who used to read to him, just like this...

Dick blinked, and the first tear fell quietly, tracing a line down his cheek. Bruce moved his hand to swipe away the tear. 

“It’s alright,” Bruce murmured, “Just let it out.”

Finally, finally, Dick let loose a sob. It was a choked, restrained noise slipping through his mouth, then it grew louder, and he started and could not stop.

Damian wrapped his arms around his torso, small arms that still had so much to learn, his Robin first, Bruce’s Robin second. Dick hugged back, just as fiercely, if not more so, his whole body wracked with broken crying.

Eventually, the tears dried. Alfred appeared with a damp towel, kind hands cleaning the teartracks and snot. Dick felt wrung out, but in a good way. 

“Why-“ Dick cleared his throat, swatted away Bruce’s hand, offering him a cup of water, “Why’re all of you in Gotham?”

Jason snorted and nudged Dick, kindly. “In case you haven’t noticed before, we like to make excuses so that we’re always around on significant dates,” his tone was purposefully casual, coupled with a nonchalant shrug, “It’s an unspoken Code Bat, Dickie.”

“No one should be alone on the bad days,” Tim added from the side, a painfully empathetic smile on his lips, “Besides, you’re always there for us, aren’t you?”

Damian remained silent, simply giving him another tight squeeze around his middle. Dick buried his nose in the boy’s hair, and for once, Damian allowed it.

“Thank you,” Dick croaked, and this time he did accept the cup of water pressed into his palm.

Dick emptied the cup in a few gulps, then turned to Jason and smiled. It was a weak smile, but his usual energy was gradually returning, unearthed from the topsoil of grief.

“Are you gonna continue the story?”

Jason huffed, made a show of rolling his eyes, but nonetheless found his bookmark and continued the story. Dick closed his eyes, leant into Bruce’s arm, wrapped around him, and managed to pull Damian even closer.

The pain of his parents’ deaths never went away, but here, surrounded by his new family, the ghosts of his past melted away, just slightly.


	2. Jason and his Dad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason has a bad day, and his hands move on their own, grabbing a burner and dialing a number he knows by heart.
> 
> (This part consists of a lot of dialogue that hopefully fills in some loose ends!)

Jason loved the crazy shit that he got up to with the Outlaws - he was never an official member of the Titans, had only “accidentally” stumbled upon one of their missions and had been invited along for the ride. He had hung out at Titans tower once or twice after that. He had gone by Jay, and the fact that he had met Roy and Kori back then had helped him earn their trust, just slightly.

On the best days, he could almost forget that he was running away from his problems. He could almost pretend that he was not completely avoiding returning to Gotham, had been spending time with Roy and Kori because he was too afraid to face his… to face them.

In the Outlaws’ most recent escapade, there was a warehouse full of explosives. He had escaped the initial explosion, then had promptly been buried.

Roy had been with him under the rubble, which was the only thing that kept him from descending into absolute hysteria. Kori had managed to dig them both out, and had dragged them back to base upon realising how withdrawn Jason had become.

“No concussion,” Roy had declared, but his brows were furrowed.

“See? I’m good, you guys can get off my case, now,” Jason huffed, shifting away from his teammates. They simply stepped closer.

“Are you sure you are well, Jay?” Kori questioned, genuine concern and worry easily readable on her face, “You were nearly unresponsive before we arrived at the base.”

“I’m fine,” Jason repeated, and it was nearly a snap. He took another step back, a stumble really, breathing heavily. This time, Roy and Kori kept their distance.

“Give me a day and I’ll be fine, alright?” Jason admitted quietly, “I hate being buried. I just- I just need a moment.”

He turned and fled into his room before his teammates could follow.

The thing about Jason was that he usually acted on his instincts. He trusted his body to know what it needed to do to survive - he had spent most of his mental energy on learning to stave off his Pit Madness, so when it came to the little things, he let muscle memory take over.

It was why he only realised what he was doing when the phone was already ringing beside his ear.

He jolted, about to hang up, when the ringing ceased and the person on the other end picked up the phone. Jason froze. 

“Hello?” Bruce’s voice trailed through, hesitant and wary. He had dialed with a random burner phone, after all.

Again, his mouth moved without his conscious input.

“Hey,” Jason croaked, then cleared his throat, “Hey, Dad.” 

He was not sure himself whether he was trying for a joke, but his tone was too sincere to be sarcastic.

He could hear Bruce inhale sharply. Papers rustled on the other end, a door closed. 

“Jaylad?” Bruce answered hesitantly. Jason near-shuddered at the familiar nickname. Something inside him settled to hear Bruce say it again.

“What’s wrong?” Bruce continued. He sounded like he had wrestled something back into place - his brain, probably. Jason, on the other hand, had completely blanked out.

“I- I don’t know,” Jason fumbled, “I don’t know why I called you, I-”

“That’s alright,” Bruce cut in, soothing and patient, “Take a moment to breathe. I’m here.”

It felt like the calls in the school bathroom, when a test went badly, when an asshole’s sneers got too much for him. Jason choked out a laugh at the comparison. Reliving the trauma of being dead and buried was _so_ much worse than high school drama. 

“Have you heard of what I’ve been doing?” Jason asked, instead of talking about the real reason he called, “Red Hood, I mean. I’m sure the new kid filled you in on what happened.”

A pause, and then, “What do you mean by that?” Bruce questioned, curiosity and concern mixed into one. Jason grinned. He could see the expression.

“Make sure this is a secure line before I spill the beans, old man. If you haven’t heard this story yet, I bet you’ll be having a Talk with your youngest.”

Oracle had secured the line, and he was glad to hear that Babs had made a name for herself as an anonymous entity of absolute badassery. Jason then went on to describe Titans tower, from his perspective.

“Talia’s a bitch, but I managed to find out what was happening in the world behind her back. There’s this thing called the internet, after all. All I had to do was slip out of the base, find a rich guy’s phone-”

“The kid looks good in his suit, by the way. Both ones, although the ‘A’ on his suit is a dead giveaway for anyone looking for his fake name. Which was apparently not obvious enough to the League, now that I think about it-”

“They thought the kid was a threat. They wanted to know who trained him. I was basically a loose cannon, as unpredictable of a variable as the kid’s mysterious mentor was. I was nobody special - no ties to the League, no connections that they knew of. So they sent me. I knew they wanted to try and draw you out, that’s why I sent the note ahead-”

“He told you radio transmissions were blocked? _Ooooooh_ , I can just see you giving him your I’m Not Dealing With This Shit face-”

There was a lull, after Bruce had filled Jason in on how everyone was doing. On Dick’s latest adventures, on how Tim dropped out of school, on Alfred’s newest recipe. 

“I did die,” Jason croaked. Bruce remained silent. “I died,” Jason repeated, “And then I woke up again. And I was in a coffin. Buried six feet under.”

“Talia found me. Apparently I had wandered all the way out of Gotham, out to another city. They sent me to a hospital, and Talia came with a bunch of henchmen. Apparently I subdued three of them before they kidnapped me.”

“They didn’t recognise me. They saw a beaten-up teenager in a catatonic state, who was somehow still able to beat them in fistfights. They saw an opportunity.”

“They don’t know I actually died. All they know is that the person who gave me my injuries was ‘a white-faced piece of shit with puke-hair’. It’s a very vague description, so I think we’re good. Hell, I think I refused to speak to them so much that by the time I was coherent, I had picked up a bit of their accent.”

“I technically fulfilled their final assignment for me - torturing the kid to try and draw you out - that’s why the League’s ignored me, and not tried to find me, again. They don’t know I’m the Red Hood. I’ve been damn careful with making sure I’ve only been seen with my helmet on.”

“... a building fell on us, today. Got buried with Roy. It was… I was scared, B.”

Jason finally fell silent, and Bruce waited a moment longer before speaking.

“You got out,” Bruce spoke quietly, “You’re here, talking to me. You’re alright.”

Jason breathed, and it felt like something had healed. 

“Yeah,” Jason smiled softly, “I guess I am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next few are softer, in my opinion - these first two were just pretty heavy 😅


	3. Tim and his (missing) spleen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim falls sick like the immuno-compromised over-worker he is. A sickfic.

Tim felt… fuzzy.

He was just getting out of WE for the day. It had been a long, long day. Three meetings, one nearly-disastrous PR decision, and to top it all off, he still had to finish his report for a recent case he had closed. He would have done it sooner, but he had only officially closed the case last night - about, say, three hours before he got into work.

He was tired. He felt fuzzy. Did he say that already?

Tim fumbled out of his office, fumbled to change into normal clothes, to change out of his scruffy and uncomfortably suffocating suit. He pulled on a baggy shirt and old hoodie, and felt just a little better.

He felt cold.

Tim made it back to his apartment, by cab. He felt like a zombie, stumbling over things that were not there, and that was funny, because Jason was a zombie, but Jason was the furthest thing from clumsy.

Tim fell through his front door, fell backwards into it until he heard it shut, then stumbled towards his couch, sinking into the worn cushion and twisting until the blanket draped over the cushions was wrapped around him. He was out like a light.

When he woke up, his throat was itching. Tim groaned, or tried to, then cringed at how raw it felt. He coughed, once, twice, full-body convulses that left him more tired than he felt falling asleep.

There was a knock at the door. Tim guessed that was what had woken him up.

He was still wrapped in his blanket. His head felt funny. He barely lifted it before a sharp pain erupted, somewhere in his skull. He groaned, cringed, and coughed again.

The door opened with a soft click.

“Helloooo? Anybody home?” 

Dick strolled in, and stopped dead at Tim’s form on the couch. He flicked the lights on, and Tim silently squeezed his eyes shut, burrowing under his blanket. 

He could feel Dick taking in his pitiful state, could hear him answering his phone on the first ring.

“Yep, I found him. He’s sick. Should I bring him to the Manor?”

A pause, and then Dick gave a confirmatory hum, “Alright. See you soon.”

Dick hung up, and then there was someone tugging on Tim’s blanket.

“Timmy,” Dick soothed, “Hey. We’re going to the Manor, ‘kay? You’re already in pretty bad shape, and you don’t have a spleen, so we kind of need to monitor you.”

Tim released something near a grumble and closer to a whine. 

“I know,” Dick sighed, and finally managed to tug the blanket away from his face, “Just let me get you there, alright? Then you can rest and be a burrito all you want.”

~

Tim was sick. He knew what it felt like. He knew, also, that the chances of his parents being home were slim. The chances of his parents getting him his sick-comfort things, even if they were home, were even slimer. He had to take care of himself.

He shuffled, finding himself already nestled under a soft, but heavy, blanket. He furrowed his eyebrows. He… his blanket did not feel like this. His blanket was much thinner, much smaller, worn down from years of use, and from the times he had tried and failed to wash it properly, and had shrunk it down.

He fumbled until his arms were free, then he was rolling towards the side until he found himself thumping against the floor. The action jarred his head, and he groaned, but still managed to stumble to his feet. He blinked rapidly at the room - it felt familiar, but it was different from his room, in Drake Manor… but it still felt like _his_. Maybe even more so.

“Timmy?” there was a hand on his shoulder. “Timmy, what are you doing?”

Tim blinked sluggishly up at the large figure next to him. He looked much bigger, since Tim was quite sure he was slumped over, slouching from exhaustion.

“Dad?” Tim mumbled, then frowned at himself. The figure did not look like Jack, at all. Yet the name felt right on his tongue. 

The figure stilled, then another hand touched down on his other shoulder as Tim slumped further.

“Yes, son?” the voice rumbled, and that felt right, too, “Do you need something? The bathroom?”

“Mmmm,” Tim leaned forward, into the grip around his shoulders, and mushed his face into the person’s chest. “Nuh,” Tim managed, after a long moment of consideration.

The chest shook pleasantly, an amused chuckle sounding from somewhere above him. “Alright,” the voice hummed, “Let’s get you back into bed, then.”

Tim flailed even as he was led back to the bed he had woken up in, hand catching onto the fabric of a sleeve, holding it even as he was tucked back in. “Nuh,” he groaned, then coughed. Ugh. He hated being sick.

“Want me to stay?” the voice asked. Tim hummed. 

“Okay.” A calloused hand found its way to his forehead, brushing back sweaty bangs. Tim pushed his cheek into the touch, and a thumb brushed gently over his face in soothing strokes.

“I’ll stay right here, Timmy. Go back to sleep.”

~

“Jay, be nice.”

“Oh, please, I bet he has way more blackmail photos than I do,” came the reply, coupled with the sounds of photos being taken on a phone, “I mean, he has Robin photos of me. That’s all the blackmail he needs.”

Tim made a big show of groaning - relieved to find that his throat was still sore, but not bothering him nearly as much - and stretching, before blinking open his eyes. He took a moment longer than usual to adjust to the light, but once the room was in focus he could see Jason leaning against the open door to his bedroom, his phone already tucked away as he grinned not-very-innocently at him. 

Bruce was still by his bedside, glaring half-heartedly at Jason. There was fondness threatening to take over his expression. 

“Bruce,” Tim whined, “You can’t let Jay get away with it, that easy!”

Bruce raised an eyebrow, “Well, he does have a point. I did let you keep whatever photos you wanted to keep.” They both neglected the fact that, if he really wanted to, Tim could hide the photos well enough that even Bruce would take at least several months of concentrated searching to find even one stash.

Instead, Tim gasped, “Betrayal!” and wriggled a hand out of his blanket so that he could wave a finger at him, “How dare you!”

Jason barked a laugh from the door, and Bruce smiled, a warm and loving thing that filled Tim’s chest with something like happiness.

“I guess you’re feeling better, eh, Timbo?” Jason questioned, and Tim could see through his forced casualness to the real concern behind the query.

Tim sat up slowly, Bruce helping to rearrange the pillows behind him to cushion his back. “Yeah,” Tim affirmed, “I’m feeling better. That was just the flu?”

“Just the flu,” Bruce confirmed, while Jason slinked out of the room to give them some privacy. Or to bother Dick, if the dramatic yells from down the corridor were anything to go by.

Tim vaguely remembered calling Bruce “Dad”, and wondered whether any of his siblings were there to see it. He thinks his older brothers had a bet about who they would catch saying the endearment first, him or Damian. He would just have to find that out from Alfred.

“Do you think Babs would help me delete the photos?” Tim wondered, turning his head towards Bruce. Bruce was using his phone, which reminded Tim of all the unread messages he must have, thanks for tempting him, sheesh.

“She might,” Bruce shrugged, “She’d probably want a trade, though.”

Tim grinned, and Bruce just sighed, ignoring the smile on his own lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to do a sickfic, just once :3


	4. Steph and Cass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steph invites Cass to a University function - Cass is the only reason she is still sane.

Cass only went to parties when she needed to gather information, or tail a target.

Of course, she did have to attend Galas and such, but Bruce knew she despised the meaningless interactions in them, and usually allowed her to disappear halfway through. Sometimes when she disappeared, she would simply hide on a higher perch, watching her brothers mill around. 

It was especially fun when they were up to something, and “Brucie” had to de-escalate their newest prank while keeping to character. There was also the ongoing game of evading one Clark Kent, Daily Planet reporter, at every event he was present at.

Going to a party with Steph, one thrown on a University campus, was something else.

For one, the atmosphere was even more lively than some of the bars she had been to. Everyone there was brimming with youthful energy, on top of whatever alcohol had been used to “spike the punch”, as Steph had described. She had pointed to a bowl of juice which, on inspection, smelt a lot like beer.

Cass and Steph had gone shopping together for a dress, Cass’ attempt to de-stress Steph before the actual event itself. If Cass found such functions a waste of time, Steph found them torturous.

“I know this isn’t your thing,” Steph had told her, “So you can decline if you want to, nevermind whatever crap you’re getting from my body language.”

Even now, at the party itself, Steph’s body language screamed discomfort. She had previously mentioned that she had little to no friends on campus, solely because it was hard to “rant and complain to friends” when they did not understand even half of the life they lived.

“This was a compulsory thing,” Steph sighed heavily, “Or, at least, the last time I skipped out on a party, I was very much judged. So I’m here to prove them wrong about me being a freak, I guess.”

Cass placed a kind hand on her shoulder. Steph smiled tightly, and continued to weave in and out of the crowded hall.

“Ayy, look! It’s Stephanie Brown!”

Cass, by Dick’s insistence, had watched Mean Girls. She had been amused by the exaggerated movements of the characters, and the petty reasons for all the issues that arose. She did not understand how such little things could be taken so seriously.

When Cass turned to face the new arrivals, she suddenly understood the kind of person being portrayed in the show.

The girls were dressed in sparkling outfits, dresses that she remembered seeing in passing at some of the more expensive stores. Their makeup was ill-done - she bet she could do better makeup than that, even if her only experience was to cover injuries - and the way they held themselves was prideful, despite all the indications that they had no idea how to defend themselves, or how to truly stand their ground, even verbally.

Steph curled her lips, before splitting into a fake, bright grin.

“Ladies! What a surprise to see you!” Steph laughed, near-mocking, “Or, well, I guess it’s not a surprise at all, is it? Everyone was invited, after all.”

“Yes, unfortunately,” one of them stated dryly, eyeing Steph pointedly. They seemed to be regarding Steph’s outfit with barely-disguised disapproval. They had bypassed all the more expensive and over-the-top shops, in favour of going down to a second-hand shop to pick out the most comfortable dresses. 

“Just in case we need to punch some faces in,” Steph had joked, “I know you can probably do that in high heels, but I’m not even half as good as you. I need something I can actually move around in if I want to land a left hook.”

She had found a flowing dress in deep violet, while Cass had a black dress with yellow trimming. Simple clothing, but nice and slightly worn.

One of them whispered something, radiating smug amusement, and the others giggled. Cass wanted to punch them. Her dress more than allowed for it.

“Who’s your friend? I haven’t seen her around before,” the nearest girl leant forward predatorily, except she lacked intimidation, in every aspect of the word. Cass was unimpressed. 

“Well, whoever she is, she seems to be your kind, huh?” another girl piped up, smiling sharply, “Was she your childhood neighbour?”

That, Cass realised, was a jab at her social standing. 

She could fix that.

Cass stepped forward, smiled sweetly, and produced her driver’s license.

The girls read the name on the card, and their smiles froze.

Their demeanour changed as fast as a slingshot, and Cass was again unimpressed.

“Oh! It’s so nice to meet you, Miss Wayne,” one of them gushed, rushing forward with a hand stretched out for a handshake. Cass stared pointedly at her hand, and switched her passive gaze to a glare. The girl backed off. 

Steph was visibly holding back her laughter. It was her turn to lean forward menacingly, and when Steph did it, there was something dangerous to the action. The girls leant back instinctively.

“She wasn’t my next-door neighbour, no,” Steph stated conversationally, and it was their turn to smile sharply as Steph slung an arm over her shoulder, “But she’s still a real buddy of mine, you know? Wouldn’t know what to do without her,” Steph squeezed her shoulder, a quiet thank you. Cass patted her hand in acknowledgement, before steering them away from the stock-still group of glitter-dresses.

“See you around!” Steph called behind her cheerfully. 

Steph waited until they were a good distance away before she started giggling uncontrollably. She was leaning against Cass as she laughed, and Cass joined in with laughter of her own. She did have to admit, reading their identical blankly-shocked reactions was quite a sight.

“You got them good, girl,” Steph shoved Cass playfully, her grin widening, “But I think we both got our fill of the party, don’t you think? Why don’t we do something more fitting for the night?”

_Let’s go play rooftop tag and bother those on patrol_ , was what she meant. Cass was all too eager to agree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I put both girls in one oneshot - but don’t worry, I have a full Cass oneshot planned for after Christmas, although that one might be just a bit self-indulgent :3


	5. Damian and his brother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian has had a full week, and his body is rested but his mind is in a haze. His brother gives him an out.

“So I was on patrol in Blüdhaven-“

Damian had finished his sketchbook on Friday.

“And there was a guy buying donuts at 2am!”

On Saturday, he went to Titans tower with Drake. He trained with Kent, Maya and Harper, and met the West twins for the first time - and was promptly worn out by their fast-paced speech and seemingly endless energy.

“So, naturally, I struck up a conversation with him, and-“

He returned to Gotham late on Sunday. On Monday, he attended a Gala. On Tuesday, there was an Arkham breakout. Not that severe, not enough to call everyone back to Gotham - which meant he and Father were stuck handling most of it.

Even when he had wanted to curl in a corner and be undisturbed, he had nothing to keep him preoccupied. His phone was not something that particularly interested him - not when there was always the chance a stranger could peer over and see something private. He did not want to use his phone in public, where there were eyes everywhere, just waiting for him to be too absorbed, to lose focus, to stumble.

It was Friday, again. Grayson was visiting. 

“-some of his donuts! What a nice guy, don’t you think so, Little D?” 

The ruffle to his hair startled him. While normally it was a warm touch that settled in his chest, now it was a sharp intrusion, prickling under his skin. He nearly threw a fist, but he managed to contain his reflexes. He managed to reduce his reaction to an unimpressed scowl at Grayson, not quite knowing what he was responding to.

Grayson chuckled, and he continued the story, and Damian really wanted to just shut his eyes and block out the noise, really wanted to say _shut up_ , but he did not have the energy to explain himself, so he tried to keep track of the conversation, tried to focus. _Focus, you imbecile._

He- he wanted to spend time with his brother, he did, it was just-

“Hey, Dami,” Tim popped his head into the kitchen, breaking off Grayson’s incessant babbling, “Can you help me with something?”

Damian tried to make it subtle, the way he took in a deep breath and moved slowly away from the kitchen. Slower than his usual pace, at least. He nearly collided with the doorframe, but he caught himself.

He pressed his palms into his eyes as he walked. He was Damian Wayne. He was Robin. He should not be this tired, especially when he made sure to have sufficient sleep in the past few days.

They went up a flight of stairs and passed their normal bedrooms. This time, he did bump into Drake when he stopped in his tracks. Drake placed a hand on his shoulder and gently steered him into a room. His brother’s hand left his shoulder once they had fully entered the room.

Damian willed himself back into his body, back into being, and tracked Drake’s movements around the room, waiting with what felt like dread for the words that would take a moment too long for him to process. A task that would take longer than usual, because even though Damian was well-rested, he felt _spent_.

The door behind them was open, allowing for the distant chatter of the rest of the family to reach them. Drake pulled a curtain open, the room flooding with soft sunlight. Drake returned to him, guiding him again to the windowsill. It was a wide windowsill. Cozy.

Damian was moving himself, now, curling onto the windowsill and leaning his shoulder against the cool glass of the window, resting his cheek against it as he peered outside. The window had a pleasant view of a tree growing in the garden. There were birds flitting about, their chirps thankfully muffled through the glass.

Something was pressed into his hands.

Damian blinked down at the sketchbook and pencil case - it was his pencil case, but the sketchbook was new. He had finished his own a week ago… enough time for Drake to have noticed, it seemed.

The sketchbook was not a generic store-bought purchase, either. The paper did not flake like some of the lower quality products he had found - it was firm and smooth under his fingertips, and smelt like Father’s library. Its cover was a photograph of the night sky, - of a city he was just discovering - the city Titans tower was located in.

Damian’s gaze drifted back to Drake, who had positioned himself on a beanbag a distance away, laptop balanced on his knees. Drake met his eye and smiled. “ _Take your time,_ ” he signed, “ _Nobody’s expecting us until dinnertime._ ”

Drake returned to his device. The clacking of his keyboard floated about the room, just enough noise to prevent the silence from becoming overwhelming.

Damian turned back to the window, turned back to the perfect sketching view, and for the first time in a week, he _breathed_.

He found that Drake was far enough away that he could melt into the background, that he was distant enough for Damian to truly sink into the feeling of pencil on paper, to finally, finally unknot whatever had been growing in his chest.

Some time after he had finished his sketch, some time after he had started dozing peacefully at his perch, there was a hand on his shoulder again.

When he would have jolted in surprise a few hours ago, would have attacked a few years ago, now Damian simply blinked blurrily up at the form of his brother.

“Alfred says dinner’s ready,” Tim murmured quietly. It eased Damian back into words, back into normal conversation.

“Tt. We should go, then,” Damian uncurled himself and hopped off the windowsill, steps fluid and upbeat as he slinked out of the room. He thought he saw an accomplished smile on Drake’s face.

He hesitated before entering the dining room.

“Drake,” he started, his brother humming beside him, “If I look for you, and say I need you for something, will you…?”

Drake squeezed his shoulder, before running a hand softly through his hair. It settled in his chest, an assurance deeper than words. “It’ll be our code,” Drake agreed, smiling warmly, “It’s alright to need some time alone, Dami. I get that.”

Damian huffed, and gently shook off Drake’s hand before marching into the dining room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is the first one I wrote. This one is very much me projecting onto Damian. Taking time to unwind is very important! :)))


	6. Duke and his siblings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duke's siblings are crazy. He thinks he likes it.

“Rooftop tag?” Duke asked, horrified and excited at the same time, “In broad daylight?”

Tim grinned, while Damian sniffed with a curt, “Are you doubting our stealth skills, Thomas?”

“No,” Duke shook his head vigorously, and only realised the younger boy was joking when Jason snorted and Damian allowed the smallest of smirks. 

“The real challenge is doing it under Bruce’s nose,” Dick piped up, eyes sparkling bright, “Steph is distracting him. Babs is on standby for damage control.”

They were rebelling, sure, but Code Bat was still a concern. They knew how to be careful.

Duke had played tag with his new family, in the confines of the Manor. It had started with a single murmured “tag” from Cass, who was in Gotham at the time, and had quickly descended into chaos.

The only reason Duke had survived the experience, as inexperienced as he was, was because of his meta powers. He still barely tagged any of them - he had a feeling they were going easy on him.

Now, though, several months into the gig, Duke took in his siblings’ vicious grins and felt his stomach flip in something like fear, but was just as likely anticipation.

~

“You cannot tag a person with an icicle, RH!”

“You’re only saying that because your snowball missed, you little shit!”

“Ok, as the adult in this situation, I have to stop you two right there. No projectiles are considered a tag. R, put down your Batarang.”

“Tt. I was going to miss anyway, N. It was meant to be a distraction.”

“Time-out, time-out. Signal, I see you inching towards the edge. Get back to the center of the roof.”

They had to restart the game several times, because of Jason changing out of his Gotham uniform to prevent being tagged, Tim hacking into the comms so that he could sneak attack his target, and Dick climbing up to a high ledge that could only fit one person - one child, really, but somehow Dick had managed it.

Cass was keeping score through the comms - Duke thinks she should really be asleep, what with her being on Hong Kong time, but he guessed that she had elected to ignore sleeping schedules for the time being. Alfred had somehow been roped into the game, monitoring everyone from the Batcave, because Alfred was ultimately the real bringer of chaos.

“Tag! Heh, gotcha- watch out!”

Everyone paused, stilling wherever they stood, listening intently to the heavy breathing coming from their comms.

“You okay?” Dick whispered, coupled with the rustling of a cape.

“Yes,” Damian huffed, with an exhaled breath, “Just a close call, as always.”

Dick sighed, and the comms went silent for a few moments. Then, the others started sprinting once more, running over the rooftops away from the duo, as Damian’s cape rustled again and he yelled out a “tag!” before leaping off.

“Hey! No fair!” Dick called, and the game continued.

On their way over the rooftops, Damian saved a cat from falling off a building, Jason tossed a granola bar to a street kid, Dick threw a wayward baseball back over a wall, Tim ate ice cream, and Duke stopped a mugging in broad daylight. It helped that his suit could become invisible. 

Eventually, Bruce found out what they were doing, right when the sun had started dipping over the horizon. Batman was seen pacing on a rooftop, glaring off into the distance as he gestured with one hand, the other hand held to the side of his cowl. Most people assumed he was talking to Superman - it had happened before.

They gathered back in the Batcave, each of them sweaty and covered in snow and dirt, each of them sporting bright and satisfied grins, Duke included. He was still riding off the high of catching Tim - by stealthing him, no less. He had looked genuinely surprised when Duke tagged him, and it was an expression Duke would take to his grave.

Bruce pulled off his cowl and glared at his kids, the Annoyed-Dad glare, not the Bat glare. The sharpness of the expression seemed to soften when he took in Duke's smile, identical to the others.

He still made all of them fill in a detailed report of the incident, along with bringing them all on patrol despite them having already run around for most of the afternoon. 

The next morning - or, well, noon, - Duke was rudely awakened by a hand shaking his shoulder.

“Duke,” Tim whispered, sounding happy and excited, and way too bright for Duke’s liking. Duke groaned and rolled over, face-down on his pillow. Tim huffed. “Duke!” he pestered, until Duke finally rolled again, sitting up at the edge of his bed, rubbing at the sleep in his eyes.

“What the fu- what the hell, Tim?” Duke hissed. Tim had very large and dark circles under his eyes, which begged the question of whether Tim had gone to sleep at all. Tim raised his eyebrow, “You know that you don’t need to censor yourself, right? I’ve heard way worse on the streets.”

As Tim spoke, he shoved his laptop onto Duke’s lap and pointed to something on screen. 

It was… a website. On “Gotham vigilantes”.

_This is a tentative list of our unnamed protectors of the night, according to the eyewitness accounts of Gothamites. It is not meant to be final. This list does not include vigilantes who are known publicly, such as Batman and the Birds of Prey._

_“Robin” / “Good Bat” : The first partner. Started as a rumour of a child fighting crime beside Batman, using the name Robin. The voice typically spouts humorous comments or puns midfight. He is now referred to as Good Bat, his figure resembling Batman's as an adult. Some have heard him use police jargon._

_“Batgirl”: The first female fighter. She was never heard or spotted with Batman, but she always introduced herself as Batgirl. People saw her in her earliest appearances, a red-haired teenage girl, before she became just as elusive as the others._

_“Alley Kid” / “Alley Bat”: The second partner. Alley Kid was known as the second child to join the fight - he had a distinctive Crime Alley accent. Alley Kid disappeared, but more recently, a young man with a similarly distinctive Alley accent has joined the fight. Some think they are different people, but most speculate that they are one and the same. The young man has been named Alley Bat._

_“Young Bird”: The third partner. As a child, he was called Young Bird due to his tendency to be heard from high perches. Most recently, people speculate that the form of an older teenaged figure gliding off rooftops using wing-like contraptions is still Young Bird._

_Honorary Mention, “Fake Robin”: A blonde girl who knew of the Robin myths and was eager to join the fight herself. She was seen much more often than any of the others, and always introduced herself as Robin. Rumours are that she was fatally wounded in a gang war._

_“Bladed Bird”: The fourth partner. He is never seen, and rarely heard, other than the sheathing and unsheathing of his sword. When he is heard by anyone, he has a high child’s voice, with a vaguely foreign accent._

Duke had seen all of this before, had googled the same website just before he had moved into Wayne Manor. There was a new addition to the list.

_“The Signal”: He has been heard in conversation with the others. Reports of his activity have always been in the day, as opposed to the other Bats. The Signal has never been seen, not even midfight - he seems to have gadgets or abilities that make him invisible. He is still new to the scene, so more witness reports would be appreciated!_

Duke took longer than usual to read the words, took longer than usual to process his addition to the website. Maybe it was the fact that he had just woken up, but he thinks it might have to do with the fact that, if he was reading Tim’s excitement correctly, that yesterday’s mayhem was planned, just for this moment. 

His siblings had wanted to introduce him to their Gothamites - they had done everything on purpose, just so that people could start recognising his name on the streets.

“Are you sure you and Babs aren’t the secret admins of this website?” Duke stated dryly, but his eyes were bright. Hell, if he had more energy, he thinks he’d be glowing, quite literally. 

Tim chuckled, “Well, we both monitor the website for sure, but we don’t add anything. We just make sure nothing that compromises us is put up.”

Duke smiled, warmth spreading in his chest. Then, as Tim set down his laptop, Duke reached out and yanked Tim forward, rolling until he was hug-pinning his smaller frame to the bed.

“Hey!” Tim yelped, the sound muffled against the pillow, “Lemme go!”

“I’ll let you go,” Duke hummed, “If you tell me when you went to bed.” 

Tim stilled his flailing, slumping into the mattress in defeat. Duke stifled his chuckle and twisted until they were in a more comfortable position. Tim was asleep in mere minutes.

His new family was crazy, that was for sure - and Duke was living for every second of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter, then it's the Christmas fic :D


	7. Babs and her date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Babs was going to get Steph back for this. Until then, she had a date. She guessed revenge could wait.

“Who’s _your_ high school crush, O great Oracle?” Dinah Lance leaned forward, smirk painted onto her lips. 

Babs folded her arms with a heavy, why-did-I-agree-to-this sigh. Beside Dinah, Steph was giggling up a storm, and if it were not a complete violation of vigilante codes, Babs bet she would have her phone out and recording.

It was a night in for the trio - there were enough Bats patrolling in Gotham that night that Oracle need not be on duty. Not that Black Canary knew anything about that, though - all Dinah suspected was that Batman had more allies than what he let on. 

“C’mon, Babs,” Steph egged on, her grin wide and teasing, “Who’s your high school sweetheart, hm?”

Babs rolled her eyes, and after another sigh through her teeth, “Richard Grayson. I mean, I am dating him, after all.”

“Holy shit, you’re saying that you’re actually whipped for him?” 

Dinah’s response only made Steph laugh harder, nearly falling off where she was perched on Babs’ desk. Babs subtly inched away the shaded photo frame from the edge - seemingly empty, but there was a picture of her Batgirl inside it, whenever she wanted to look.

“Okay, I think you’ve seen too much of his ‘Richie Grayson’ persona to ever treat me seriously,” Babs rolled her eyes, and Steph snorted, “But, as cheesy as it is to defend your boyfriend, he’s a nice guy. Pretty charming, as the magazines do say, but he’s also genuine.”

Dinah, finally fed up with Steph’s reactions, shoved her off the desk. Steph finally settled herself on the floor, legs crossed and leaning a shoulder on Babs’ wheelchair, her arm resting on the top of the wheel. “Sorry, I just- Oracle is being girl-talked,” Steph giggled, “Hoo-whee, am I here for this.”

Babs scowled, because she knew that was not the real reason. Steph was essentially the second sister of the Bats, after Cass, and she was getting a very big kick out of talking about her brother, who just so happened to date her mentor. If Dinah were not here, Babs would so kindly remind Steph that, at one point in time, Steph was in fact the one who was dating Tim.

“I mean, okay, I get that you two were from the same school, that’s how you two met and all,” Dinah frowned, “But how did you two become a thing? I guess I wasn’t keeping track of the gossip rags, but I think I completely missed the start of your relationship.”

Babs smirked, “Hey, even before I was Oracle, I had good enough hacking skills to prevent anything I didn’t want from getting out to the public. When he and I started seriously dating, all we had to do was make sure nobody recognised us - and if we were recognised, to book it before it escalated.”

The first time their date was publicly broadcasted to the newspapers was a few months into their relationship. It was completely intentional - meant to draw attention to them instead of the surge of Jason Todd speculation and theories that almost went over the edge. Jason had owed them big time for that.

“I guess the guy’s a smart kid, under all that camera-worthy charm or whatever,” Dinah raised an eyebrow, “I mean, I wouldn’t peg you for someone who’d date anyone less than an intellectual equal.”

Babs gave a noncommittal hum. The two of them had been equals right from the start: the very first Batgirl and Robin. Even her losing the mobility of her legs hardly kept them from competing, everything from sudoku puzzles to hacking government organisations. 

They were also the first people to be part of Code Bat - the first few to know of it, and to set out on their own paths, never forgetting about the failsafe right below their feet. 

There was a chirping from Babs’ phone, followed by the blasting of The Greatest Show, which immediately identified the caller. Babs flicked her gaze towards Steph, who was trying to hide the smug tilt of her lips, and failing miserably. 

“Dick,” Babs greeted flatly, upon picking up her phone. Dinah stifled her laugh. “That’s what he’s called by friends, apparently,” Steph whispered to her, “It’s what he said in an interview, once. He’s so weird.”

“And yet she’s dating him,” Dinah whispered back, gesturing to where Babs was still on the phone.

“Knock knock,” Dick had chirped happily, and Babs ignored him the first time. “Knock knock,” Dick repeated, closer to a whine, and Babs sighed.

“Who’s there?” Babs muttered, barely picked up by her phone. It was enough for Dick, who responded with, “A date!”

Babs paused. Dick huffed audibly, “C’mon, Babs, don’t leave me hanging!”

Babs rolled her eyes and droned out, “Date who?” 

“Date with you!” Dick finished gleefully, adding his own cackle to the end of the pick-up line.

“That was one of your worse ones,” Babs deadpanned, even as she turned to face her security cameras. One Dick Grayson was standing in front of the Clocktower entrance, phone in hand and pressed to his ear. He turned towards the camera and winked, with a smug grin on his face. Idiot.

Babs lowered her phone and spared a glance behind her. Steph had wrestled her expressions back under her control, keeping a decently curious guise plastered onto her face. Dinah was already standing, one arm propped at her hip. “I guess that means ladies’ night is over?” Dinah observed, and Steph stood to her feet herself at her silent nod of dismissal.

Dinah was out of the room first, so Babs was able to snatch up Steph’s arm and hold her back, until Dinah was safely out of hearing range. Now, Steph’s grin was back in full force.

“Before you say anything,” Steph raised her hands up in defense, “It was Dick’s idea. Plus, he planned the whole of tonight, apparently. Just for the two of you. If you’re gonna shoot the messenger, fine, but at least enjoy the night with him.”

Babs frowned, and flicked Steph in the nose. 

“I’m only letting you off right now because Dick’s still waiting downstairs,” Babs stated with a glare, “Try this again and I’ll get Tim to pull out your baby photos from his stalker stash.”

Steph sputtered, even as Babs allowed Dick entry into the building. Dinah exited from the back entrance, while Dick made his way up and grinned brightly upon arrival. 

He was dressed in casual clothing - no fancy suit, no bowtie or tie or whatever men wore nowadays, just him and his worn hoodie from university, back when he still made an effort to study. 

“What kind of date are you taking me on, if we both look like this?” Babs mused, gesturing at herself - wearing an old sweater, her hair tied up in a messy bun. Steph took that moment to pat both of them on the shoulder and see herself out.

Dick grinned. “You’ll see,” he teased, and Babs could imagine his idea of a comfortable date - either the penthouse or another location in a high building, with a copious amount of pillows and blankets, and a movie marathon queued and ready. 

It was not something Babs was particularly adverse to. 

“Lead the way, Boy Blunder,” Babs lifted a hand which Dick took in his, easily keeping step with Babs’ wheelchair, neither too slow nor too fast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the end of the random person-centric oneshots I pulled out of thin air! Tomorrow's the Christmas fic!! 
> 
> (As I write this, it's technically nearly Christmas! XD For the rest of you, I hope you guys have a nice Christmas eve!)


End file.
